


A year without rain

by Inspirationfeedscreatiivity



Series: Love isn't always on time [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4384529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity/pseuds/Inspirationfeedscreatiivity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Give it a year. Twelve months. Three hundred sixty five days. Give it time, give it your all and maybe, just maybe, you'll look back and not fall apart all over again.</p><p>Raven's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	A year without rain

**Author's Note:**

> **Side note, I do not live in this city so pardon me if I get something wrong**
> 
>  
> 
> Read tags for warnings!

_September_

The wind caresses your face, pulling your hair away from your eyes. The red color of your jacket has been washed out, but it still fits and looks great. Together with those red sneakers and white pants you look like a Arsenal fan. Luckily no one is around to comment on it, it wouldn't end that well considering that the only league you keep track on is the Bundesliga.

It's early. Or really really late. 

You lean over the railing and pull yourself up to let your legs relax for a moment because they tingle with exhaustion. You shake them one after another, but it only helps so much and when you lean back on your heels a tired ache shoots through your bones. The night was long and intense, everything that could possibly go wrong went terribly wrong. But you made it, the whole team worked like crazy and together you managed to handle the situation. 

The summer spent with those people definitely payed off by the look of it. When you arrived to a unfamiliar London and managed to get yourself a job at one of the clubs on Brixton Road you knew absolutely nothing about working at a club. All you knew was music. Music is all you've ever known and been good at. Which, luckily enough, Wick thought too since he offered you Friday's nights for you to play your music and the rest of the week in the bar. It has been nine weeks of struggling, late hours, learning how to mix drinks, dancing your ass off to new music. It has been nine weeks of nothing but life. Life. Love. 

And getting over those two, too.

A deep sigh leaves your parted lips, all while your eyes flutter close so that you can concentrate on listening to the city coming to life. How the streets and every street corner welcome the mailmen. How the water kisses the same stone, as always, over and over again as it flows below your feet. How the sun barely reaches to spread over the rooftops. When it hits you, you breathe in the new morning with a sense of relief. A little smile take form on your lips and the sun warms your cheeks.

When you pull out your phone it tells you that the clock is getting close to five am. You stay there for another couple of minutes before you leave St. George Wharf Pier and head to your apartment with the sunlight following in your footsteps.

\-----

_October_

The clock is getting close to three pm and the whole crew has found their way to the loading dock behind the club. Thursday is delivery day. Which means that you'll have to unload at least a dozen beer crates. Which will be followed by the whole afternoon spent trying to prepare for the night behind the bar. Not that you mind it, doing some heavy lifting doesn't bother you as much as it might bother those who watches you. They are getting around to it, the actual fact that you, despite of your injury, can in fact take care of yourself and do the same work as the rest of them. Sometimes even better and faster. The last couple of weeks has gone by faster, the work has been good and the guys have gradually let go off their big brother acts. 

Now you're all just a part of the same team, the same crew.

Miller jiggles his legs over the edge of the dock and sighs out of boredom. Behind you Murphy and Atom are arguing over some game they are suppose to go see on Saturday, you think it's something to do with the fact that they despise each other's teams. It's accustomed really. Harper is fumbling with her phone standing in between yours and Miller's legs and you can't bother to even peek over to see what she's doing on that thing. A good guess would be that she's playing Candy Crush or something equally silly.

"This is ridiculous", Wick mutters and checks his phone for the hundredth time.

You laugh a little. "It's still three", you tell him and he looks up at you with the same annoyed expression he gave his watch.

"What?".

Next to you Miller smiles carefully, but doesn't say anything. 

"You've been checking your watch like five times the last minute. Relax, they'll be here", you say and Harper hums a confident _she's right_ without looking up from the screen.

Wick straightens his back and puts away his phone. "I know they will. I would just appreciate them being on time for once".

"You're thinking too much", Miller comments and peeks over to your side. He, besides Wick, is the only person you stand to be around for a longer period of time. Murphy is a dick, simple as that, and really he doesn't even try to hide it. Whilst Atom only interests are sports and girls, one of which interests you too but not enough for you to feel like striking up a conversation with him about it. Harper on the other hand is nice and polite, but still her eyes are always partially fixed at her phone, unless you're actually working. As individuals you shouldn't really work as a team, all of you are really a whole lot different from each other, but together you manage to keep it together. Wick is the boss and owner of Plan B, also the guy that handles all the bookings, private parties and so on. Atom and Murphy work at the door and handle security, whilst Harper manages the floor and those who work on it. Miller is the bartender and that is also what you've been for the summer, when you're not working the booth of course.

The black truck pulls up a minute later and everyone line up at the dock, ready to get to work. Murphy jumps down as the driver opens the door and Wick walks over to get the list. He exchanges a few short sentences with the driver while Atom and Miller get onto the back of the truck to start shoving crates towards the others. The familiar sound of rattling glass puts a smile on your face and you nudge Harper's shoulder to get her to move over to the other side, together with Murphy the three of you unload the delivery. 

“I'm gonna go and make a few calls”, Wick announces behind your back and you turn with a crate of vodka bottles in your arms.

You look him up and down. “Not the blonde one, what's her name?", you yell over your shoulder.

"Mell", Harper answers and you lock eyes on Wick.

"Not her. She can't work the floor for shit and I can't stand looking at her". Wick only smiles in his goofy and quite annoying way, but your serious face makes him nod in acceptance. He's a good looking piece of shit, but with the ten years he has on you he's stretching for the limit, a limit you're determined to not cross no matter how cute he can be.

"Fine, not her. But I need to get someone else then, suggestions?", he asks high enough for the others to hear and Murphy mumbles something you can't make out but it makes Miller giggle like a little girl. "See, there's no one else", Wick says and there's something insulting to the way he looks at you, but all it really does is fuel your fire and you bite back a snort.

"Keep her away from me, that's all I got to say".

You turn on your heel to go place the crate next to the others on the dock. Wick laughs quietly as he walks past you, jumps onto the dock and disappears through the door to the club.

\--

“Can you hand me that?”, Miller asks and nods to the checklist on the counter between the two of you. You move over and slide it over the counter in his direction, he stops it with one hand as he pulls out a pen from his back pocket. “They forgot the Bacardi”, he mumbles and Murphy snorts where he´s standing on your other side, filling up the shelfs.

“Go figure, they always forget something”, he says very unimpressed and you can't help but smile at it, because he´s right. The only reason Wick still uses that bunch of guys for the deliveries is their prices. Which is a good reason, but if it was up to you they´d be gone a long time ago. Luckily enough, they never forget the same things two times in a row so you've hopefully still got enough of what's left from the last delivery.

Harper returns half an hour later with pizza and the whole crew join in to eat before the chaos returns. There, in the little group of people that aren't anything alike, you find yourself once again smiling. This time out of joy with a bubbling laugh causing you to almost choke on a piece of pepperoni.

(It almost makes you forget what day it is. You don't need a Facebook reminder, it's imprinted on your mind. They almost make you forget it for a moment. Almost.)

\-----

_November_

Your legs ache, as does your lower back, from all the lifting you did last night. Your hands are cut from the glass you had to pick up after a particularly nasty fight involving beer bottles. You haven´t been more grateful for Murphy than yesterday night when those men, more like children considering how they acted, decided to reenact the war of Troy. You have never seen that much glass, or blood for that matter, before. You and Harper spent almost two whole hours picking up every shard while Wick had to handle those drunks as they consulted with the police on the damages.

You huff and reach for your glass standing on the table. You take a sip of the Coke and the sweetness tingles on your tongue before settling. The clock around your wrist reads 10:39 pm. You should be sleeping at this time, especially with the week you've had. But this isn't one of those nights when you feel like or can just jump into bed at nine and sleep yourself whole again. Your laptop is open on the table next to your glass whilst the TV lights up the room. An old movie is on - No strings attached. You can't help but think that Ashton Kutcher looks really bad with that haircut at the end of the film, it really looks like something a mother would put her child through when he doesn't know better than to go along with it. He´s almost cute in it, but mostly just annoyingly not handsome at all. 

You close your eyes for just a moment and listens to the voices, the traffic outside and the shouting from the apartment next door. You've lived here for the last two months. When you got to London you checked into a hotel for the first week, while looking for work. When you finally stumbled upon Plan B and convinced Kyle, who doesn't respond to anything other than Wick, to give you a try at working in the bar he set you up with Harper. She was a sweetheart for letting you stay with her, but in the end you really just wanted to live alone for a while. It had nothing to do with getting over Clarke, you just wanted some time alone. 

At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

You haven't thought about Clarke or what happened that morning for weeks, your mind has been preoccupied with everything else. Life doesn't just stop when something bad happens. Time doesn't pause or rewind, it keeps on moving and forces you to move with it. Maybe that's why you ended up in London of all places. When you got to the airport there was a lot of choices, more than your mind could process at the time, but most of them involved waiting and that scared the living shit out of you. You needed to keep moving and so it happened that the flight to London was the one that would depart within the hour. Sixty minutes was still dreadful and caused you to clench to your seat as you waited to board the plane, but it wasn't long enough to make you change your mind.

You're slowly drifting away into a comforting and much needed sleep when the familiar ringtone penetrates your bubble of relaxation. You peek out from under the arm you flung over your eyes to keep the light from the TV away, the screen of your laptop is blue and in the middle of it shows a miniature picture of Lincoln. Under it there're two options, decline or not. You huff and sit up with a grunt as your back protest to the sudden movement. You reach for the laptop and press down on the green mark.

The screen darken for a moment and then, there's Lincoln. 

"Hi stranger", you mumble and a little smile tickle at the corner of your mouth.

 _"Hi yourself. How're you feeling?"_ , he answers and smiles in a big way. If there's someone you miss, apart from the obvious one, it's Lincoln. He and Octavia both have become important parts of your life, really the only parts you care enough to spend any significant time on.

"It feels like I've been beat up", you mumble and rub at your sleepy eyes. He frowns seriously and eyes you under silence. You smile bigger this time and sigh out of relief, almost like you've held your breath for the last week or so. "It's fine, long week, it'll get better when we gotten our hands on staff that can actually handle drunks".

He huffs. _"That bad, hu?"_.

"Worse", you answer and he breathes out noticeably heavy too. It's quiet in the background, which isn't the normal. "No Octavia?". He immediately looks down and when his eyes drift up again they are blank, but behind the facade he so carefully put up you notice the pity. Which of course is directed at you, even though he most certainly doesn't mean to feel that about you. "What's up with you then?", you ask instead and save him from actually saying the thing you know that he nor you want him to say.

He nods as in agreeing with your choice of changing the subject. _"Nothing really. Work, work, work. You know how it is"._

"Yeah. Last night was a mess", you say and laugh at the memory. It wasn't that funny in the moment, but afterwards, when you didn't have to clean up after those idiots anymore, then it just seemed hilarious. You don't have a clue what they argued about or what made them go at each other's necks. That's what you get after a few too many drinks and a heated argument.

 _"But you're okay, right?"_ , Lincoln asks and you are drawn back to his eyes, they search intensely in yours and you nod in response. _"Good, otherwise I would have to come over there and kick some asses. No one's getting their hands on you, not on my watch"._

You bite your lip and swallow back a new kind of laughter. "So I should probably not tell you about the ass groping", you teas and his eyes narrow at your words. "Noted". He wrinkles his nose at you and then laughs himself. He might be on the other side of the world, but when the two of you talk and he says the things he says, it's like nothing has changed. There's no distance big enough to affect what you built up with time. However, the distance has its effects. You yawn and turn your open mouth to the side to hide it somewhat from the screen. You smack your lips and scratch at your scalp as you turn back, to find Lincoln observing you with warmth glowing from his eyes. "Sorry", you sigh and a little smile lingers on your lips.

He seems to look down for a second. _"What's the time at yours?",_ he asks and you look down to the right corner to find the clock.

"11:47 pm. Why?".

He mutters something and shakes his head at you. _"The time difference sucks. I had no idea it was so late. I keep forgetting that. And you look like you could use a week of sleep"_ , he explains and you nod in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm knackered but it's fine".

 _"No it's not",_ he argues with a hint of maturity to his voice. The fact that he's reaching for thirty and will reach it before you can turn twenty four has never been something noticeable about your relationship. Maybe that saying that boys never really grow up is true. At least that's what you think.

"Lincoln, this is more important to me than a few more couple of hours of sleep", you tell him and he sighs, giving up the argument before it evens gets good. That's also one of the things that you like about him, he doesn't seek for arguments or pursue them like guys your age does. Like one Finn Collins did, and in a big and noisy way.

 _"Hey, while I remember, what are you doing for Christmas?"_ , Lincoln asks and you're surprised by his by question. You lean forward, your arms crossed over your knees.

"You know what I'm doing, I'm working all through Christmas".

Lincoln smiles like he knows something you don't and it almost makes you laugh, but mostly you're intrigued and want to know what that smile means. _"Not new years eve, or the first week of January"_ , he says and you can't help but frown in confusion.

You reach over to the side of the computer, grab the remote and turn off the TV. "Where are you going with this?".

 _"I think you should spend New Years with O and I, here"_.

You feel a tug to your stomach and it takes you by surprise, so much so that you even flinch. You force a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut before you meet Lincoln's waiting gaze. "Lincoln, I can't", you breathe out and he smiles comforting.

_"But you can"._

"Really not", you answer and rub at your temples. You haven't even consider the possibility of maybe, just maybe, wanting to go home. It wouldn't even be your actual home, but it's as close as you can get. 

As close as you'll ever be.

 _"She won't be here"_ , Lincoln voice tells you and your fingers stop the massage of your temples abruptly. _"Please, we really miss you and you seriously need to take a break from whatever you're doing on your spare time"_.

You laugh at his failed attempt at convincing you to get on a plane by stating that your lack of social life is a problem. "You can't watch too much TV, I thought you knew that", you teas and he smirks wickedly.

 _"Well I got the new Panasonic and a huge stack of series you haven't watched yet"_.

"Wanna bet on that", you mock and scratch your chin nervously.

He looks tired when you meet his eyes. Tired but still warm. You do really really miss him and Octavia, they are the closest thing you got to a family. You breathe out heavily and run both of your hands through your hair, pull it up into a ponytail without locking it there. Your black hair falls down over your shoulders again and frames your face. 

_"Raven, come on. What do you got to lose?"_ , he asks and you can't help but smile.

"My mind".

(God knows, you haven't got your heart back yet.)

\-----

_December_

When you'd been working at Plan B for a little over a month, Atom, as the genius he was, proposed that all of you would play a drinking game at the end of a shift. It ended with you stumbling back to Harper´s with her more or less carrying you the whole way. When you woke up the next morning you didn't have any sort of memory of the night before. If that had happened while you were still in college and around Clarke, you would have panicked. But here, with a new group of people, people you'd grown to trust fairly quickly you could let yourself just be for awhile. Really it didn't have much to do with trust, more that you didn´t care if you did or said something inappropriate. Although, you were glad to know that you didn´t make an absolute fool of yourself. Not that time.

This night is a bit different. 

Wick is that kind of a manager that keeps track on the competition, he rarely goes a week without visiting at least two other clubs every other day. This time you decided to come with him. It´s a busy Saturday night. Wick left half an hour ago to go back to Plan B, but since it's your night off you stayed. You're standing in the dark, leaning back against the wall, discreetly observing the crowd on the dance floor with a drink in hand. It's your fifth of the night, and definitely not your last. It's three days before Christmas and the club is packed with college students returning home for winter break. Bellamy would have loved this, you think and smirk at the thought of him relishing in the picking. Not that he has any kind of taste, anything with a pulse is good enough for him. It aches to think of him, of any of them. It spreads like a toxic through your veins, makes your muscles contract and your pulse thump in your ears. It matches the beat of the bass, it follows along your bones and sets your skin on fire. That´s why you love, live and breathe music - it tunes everything else out. Or enhance the pain until it doesn't hurt anymore, everything just goes numb. And that´s better than the alternative.

It doesn't hurt as much though, not as it used to.

She catches your eye, quite easily too. She's taller than you, even without heels, that's the first thing you notice, mostly because your eyes follow the length of her legs covered by those slim jeans without you noticing at first. She turns and twirls with a dark gaze locked on yours, flinging her long brown hair to one side and running her hand up through it. There´s no denial, she knows what she´s doing. You lean back against the wall even harder and lift your hand to take a sip of your drink, it's bitter on the tip of your tongue, burns down your throat and settles with a roar at the pit of your stomach. Something tells you that you´ll be needing more than that, especially if you plan on staying here and not, definitely not, walking over to her. She keeps her eyes on you, even though a very unaware guy tugs at her waist, pulls her to his chest and joins her movements. You laugh a little and lift your glass once again, in her direction this time, before emptying it. Something in her face changes and her eyes narrow for a moment. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket, you already know it´s Wick telling you that things are shit at Plan B and that he needs you over there. Only, you won´t answer him this time. He'll understand, you´re sure, if you end up telling him the truth that is. If you don't, he can blame himself for giving you the direct order to get that first gin and tonic when you arrived at this place, followed by the order to relax and enjoy your night off.

He'll understand, you think again and reach down your pocket to turn of the vibration.

You keep your eyes on that brunette, without leaving your place. There are changes to her dancing, it becomes more and more daring. When others pull at her she pulls right back. When they tug at her hips she grinds back with a wicked smile growing on her lips. A familiar smile grows on your own, and when she kisses that guys neck with eyes fixed at you, you fingers tingle. But not enough to make you change your mind - you can wait. 

The hour is young and while the girl blends in with the rest of the crowd, she's not the typical student and maybe that's why you can't get your eyes off of her.

The girl's lips ghost over the shelf of the guy's ear, you can see them move and the next second she's moving away from him with a determination to her dark eyes. You can imagine yourself looking a little smuged, it wouldn't be the worst thing really. For what it's worth you made her come to you, and that's both amusing and thrilling. You lift your chin as she approaches, lips quirked and eyes calm.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer", she states loudly over the music as she stops barely a feet away from you. Her breath tickling your face as she breathes out heavily. She locks her dark eyes on yours and they narrow briefly before she bites her lip.

You snort and roll your eyes back at her. She keeps her eyes on you. "I could say the same thing to you".

"I like what I see, why not keep looking?".

You shrug your shoulders, trying to seem untouched by the way she seems to lean closer and closer. "Nothing's stopping you", you say and she bites her lip again. You can count the few freckles under her eyes and draw them together in your mind into small constellations, like stars on a fallen sky. "Can I get you a drink?", you ask and push forward an inch, just enough to make sure she's aware of your intentions.

"No", she breathes and you frown. The lights go off and the beat thumps in your chest, along with the floor as it shakes when the crowd jumps in unison. A flash goes off and is followed by a number of them, making it possible to make out the people dancing and throwing back their heads to the music. You see it all behind her, but your eyes don't leave hers. She smiles wickedly before licking her lips and leaning in, they brush against your cheek and you're almost sure she places a light kiss to the shell of your ear before she smiles again. "You can take me home".

\--

The door creaks open and you step aside, allowing her to step in first. "Welcome to my humble home", you say and follow her as she goes in, closing and locking the door carefully behind you.

She slips off her jacket and throws it over one of the kitchen table chairs. She's wearing a low cut blouse and her skin is impeccably well tanned though the season. You slowly remove your own jacket and hang it by the door while following her with your eyes as she inspects the apartment.

Her fingers follow the bookshelf and she scoffs quietly. "Humble was the word".

You barely stop yourself from laughing and she turns to you as you run a hand through your hair. "You done?", you ask and feel a steady tug at your chest as well as your stomach.

She walks slowly, eyes fixed at yours, arms swinging at her sides. When she's less than three inches from your face she breathes out heavy. "Nowhere near", she whispers and before you have time to answer her your lips are on hers or hers are on yours. A groan slips your tongue and you pull at her waist to get her closer. She answers with a nip to your bottom lip and earns herself another groan. 

She's slick against your body, you melt together but it irritates your fingers that they have to clutch to fabric instead of skin. Her tongue tastes of liquor and sweetness and it makes you thirsty, for her, for her mouth, skin and small quivers as you brush your lips over the pulse point on her neck. Her hands are tangled in your hair, nails scratching at your scalp and when she pulls hard you stumble back to find steady ground. She pushes you up against the door and when her mouth is on yours she claims all of you in one deep kiss. Every part of your being begin to pulsate, it starts like a growl at your stomach and spreads through your blood until you come up for air and yelps when her right knee presses up against your center. She bites down on your bottom lip, smiles as she pulls and lets go with a hungry gaze.

She reminds you of a lion watching it's prey with those hungry eyes, ready to devour you and bring you to a breaking point you didn't know you needed to feel again. You suck in a slow breath with her fingers gently pulling at your hair, forcing you to tilt your head slightly to the left and when her eyes drift to your neck you're sure she'll go for it. 

"Bedroom?", you ask and swallow hard when you feel the warmth spread through your veins at the thought of her skin pressed against yours, no clothes or fabric keeping you from properly taking her in.

The questions stays unanswered as she leans in and captures your open mouth in a kiss, slower than the others but just as deep. When she leans back again your eyes can't open and you have to focus on your heartbeat to keep yourself from throwing her down onto the floor.

Maybe she isn't the only predator.

"Lead the way", she whispers and steps back unnoticeable. You run your right hand through your hair as your eyes open, the left one laced together with hers you lead her to the second room. The floor sings under the girl's heels and it's the happiest sound you've heard in this apartment for longer than you let yourself think of. You pull her ahead of you and with a hand on the small of her back you push her gently through the doorway. She steps up to the bed, made with lavender colored sheets and more than enough pillows to go around. You watch her from the open door and fiddle impatiently with your fingers. Patience has never been one of your traits. In you mind you've already removed that little shirt of hers and run your hands down her sides, hooking your fingers under the waistband of her underwear and ripped them together with those jeans. You can already hear her body sing to you as yours is already humming.

She turns to your music collection and scans through it with narrowed eyes.

In another city, with another girl, you would have been nervous, questioned yourself and maybe even walked away. In another time you would only have dreamed of this, but yet again, if this was another time the girl you'd be watching would have been blonde and probably on the phone with her narcissistic boyfriend.

You're so far off that you don't notice her turning around and locking her eyes on yours.

It has been too long for you to think of _her_. Still she never stopped haunting your thoughts. Sometimes you're even sure that she's still around, but then you wake yourself up by falling face down to meet the floor and your body aches. It's like going through withdraw, only your addiction were never chemical or physical for that matter - and time doesn't change the way your heart stops even by simply imagining her eyes.

Your lungs take in a deep breath, but it catches in your throat where her lips gently press. She sucks harder and you can feel her hands on your waist, fingers digging into you. When her tongue reaches out to soothe your sensitive skin and the marks she most definitely left you grab her face with both hands, forcing her to face you. You can't keep your eyes on hers, they drift towards her parted lips and the way her bottom lip is pulled in between her teeth.

Patience has never been your thing.

Her feet are steady and her grip on your waist hardens when she pulls as she slowly walks backwards towards the bed. Your mouths are hot on each other, sloppy and between every kiss there're noises slipping both of yours tongues. You struggle to find your balance when she stops abruptly. Her teeth sink into your bottom lip and you whimper into her. Her lips slow down and press slowly to your jawline, trace them down your neck, they brush against the shell of your ear and then she bites your ear lobe. The noise evaporating off your lips is low and vibrating as it flows through you. With practiced hands you make her stop for a torturing moment as you take off your shirt and unhooks your bra, slowly taking it off under her awaiting gaze. She not late to cover the new and revealed skin, making sure to leave marks all over your chest while your fingers tangle in her long curls.

She's nothing like _her_. Precisely what you need.

Her mouth is on yours again and this time you take control. She lets you push her down on her back on the bed. Her pupils are blown wide and that bottom lip is caught between her teeth. Your eyes are locked on hers as you get your brace off and then undress altogether. There's no show, not this time anyway. She gets the picture and removes her blouse before you've gotten your pants off properly. But when she reaches down to the waistband of her jeans you grab her hands, place them on either side of her body and drags your own over her naked stomach. Goosebumps grows under your fingertips and you can't help but growl when her eyes roll back as your hands cup her breasts. The words are left unsaid, but you've never been much for talking in bed anyway, so you just put her out off her misery. When you're on her, like a second skin, lips on lips, hands clutching to whatever they find and small moans drowned between you, you remember why it's so easy for you to forget how good it feels to feel good again - if only for a moment.

Her breath is heavy against your collarbone and her hair messy in your hand when you pull to angle her head to the side, giving you access to more of her neck. "Fuck, I need to touch you", she hisses. Your lips form a little teasing smile against her skin before you place another kiss there to soothe it.

"What's stopping you?", you whisper back and feel the slight change in her grip. She twists her legs around yours and push to the right with her whole body, bringing herself up over your body which is now pressed hard against the mattress.

She's soft and slow, teasing as she lets her hands take you in, lips brushing over your chest and then closing around one nipple, tongue causing you to arch into her touch. She doesn't ask with words, but every inch of skin she covers is first meet with an aching question for permission. You give it. All of it. Your right hand is clutching to the sheets while the left one is caught in her dark hair, fingers scratching at her scalp, begging her to come closer, to not stop, to go faster, to take it slow. Months of avoiding physical contact has made you reckless and impatient, it's ridiculously easy for her to turn you on and find all the right spots as your breath is caught over and over under her touch. When she's kneeling in between yours legs, pulling her hair back with steady and torturingly slow hands, eyes lazy and fixed at your whimpering body, you can´t find the words to make her know that you're already there, that when she touches you she'll set you off and you´ll free fall in her embrace.

She stops there, hands resting on the top of your thighs, legs spread and naked in every way there is. “Tell me”, she whispers and you swallow hard. Maybe you're just imagining it. Maybe this is you free falling. “Tell me how you want it”, she repeats and drags her fingers closer to your center, making your back arch and stomach ache. She lowers her body and pulls your leg up. “Tell me”.

You bite your lip hard enough to taste iron and when her right hand reaches up to caress your stomach, you're lost. “Just touch me”, you beg and don't even try to hide the pain.

The smile on her lips is tender and you can almost feel your own mouth replicating it, but then hers disappears as she lowers herself even further down and then that smile is on you, making you come undone piece by piece until your mind goes blank.

She wipes her mouth against your thigh and makes her way up to your face with soft kisses placed on each and every part of your body she´s already touched. “You okay?”, she asks and places a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You try, you really do, but every word your tongue seems to form is wrong. So you kiss her instead, steady and hard, making sure to tell her with that tongue that words isn't the answer she needs.

When she minutes later clutches around your fingers, hands tangled hard in your hair and mouth hot on yours, you both fall back against the mattress with heavy breaths. Her arm is sprawled over your chest, covering parts of you you only give to people that matter, but those same parts are lost to you. Maybe for forever. You run a hand through your hair and watch her in your shared silence. She looks young, but not the way kids growing up without trouble does. She reminds you of heartache, loss and sorrow, but the lazy smile on her lips is filled with joy and tenderness.

(Maybe not all things that are broken can't be put together again.)

It´s in this moment that you realize that you don´t know her. Nothing about her at all, apart from the fact that she now knows your body better than most people in your past could claim to. "What's your name?".

She laughs quietly and meets your gaze with eyes filled with adrenaline and promises. "Isn't it a bit late for such pleasantries?", she replies. You don´t let go of those eyes. Under her forearm your heart picks up and your blood sings to her. She looks serious all of a sudden and you can see those dark eyes calm down for a moment. "Anya, my name is Anya".

"I'm Raven".

"Pleased to meet you", she tells you and it doesn´t feel awkward or forced. Then she props herself up on her other elbow and with the arm on your chest she starts to trace your ribs, causing goosebumps to grow on your own arms. "Now, would you mind meeting me again?".

A smile finds your lips and it doesn't hurt as much this time to give in to the feeling of wanting to be in another human beings arms. To feel again. She leans in and seals the promise with a deep kiss.

(Neither of you sleep that night. At least not until the sun welcomes you and proclaims a new day, only then, then do you fall into a satisfying sleep.)

\-----

_January_

Working all through Christmas was the best thing you've ever decided. Yes, the most of the people you encountered were either drunk or high on something they claimed to be organic, but it was better than sitting alone in your apartment and sleeping the holidays away. The first year after the accident you could bring yourself to go through any holidays sober or anywhere near conscious, so you turned to the bottle and tried to drown in it. Luckily enough it was harder to die from alcohol consumption than you'd hoped at the time. You payed the price all of the mornings after and that too became something that could block out the real pain. Still, you got older and with it you slowly started to realize the responsibilities that been laid upon you. All the things you had to be to get by. By your own.

With every holiday or birthday that passed you drank a little less, the bottle turned into drugs for a while, but it was easier to feel numb and high on the feeling of drowning than suffocating so you always ended up going back to alcohol. The same year you turned eighteen you woke up on Christmas day, unaware of where you were, how you got there and frankly what the day was. It wasn't as much of a wake up call, just frightening enough for you to step back for a moment and see the damage. What you found was simple - you were the damaged. The things you'd tried so hard to drown and get rid of had become parts of you. They had clutched to your life and core like deep going roots and no alcohol or drug could make them unleash.

It's almost ironic how you later happened to be working at a bar, in a club that was filled with the mix of people trying to forget and others to remember, or at least, they tried to create something worth remembering. Maybe it worked as therapy or something, because even though you're not as wrecked as you used to be, this Christmas wasn't anywhere near as bad as all the others.

(Or, were you the difference.)

New year's was a bust. Octavia got food poisoning and you spent the night crawled up on the couch, Octavia´s head in your lap while you lazily ran your fingers through her hair and Lincoln on the other end with a soothing hand over her calf. Still, it was better than anything else. Even though you promised yourself to not admit that if anyone asked.

(They didn't need to ask to know.)

You really didn't mind hanging out at the apartment doing nothing and just spending time with two of the people you love the most. For all you care you don't see anything wrong with keeping this up for the next few days and simply stay here for the rest of your vacation. Back home in London the others are most definitely busy cleaning up after the big celebration and getting ready for all the people that will be sauntering in during the coming week when they break vows and found out about secrets created under the influence. Some part of you miss it, more the people than the cause of them returning for a drink and most definitely the crew. Still, you didn't know how much you've missed this home too until Lincoln pulled you into his arms and Octavia went right back to being that close and comforting friend she quickly grown to become.

Octavia sighs comfortably and leans further against the armrest of the couch. You can't help but smile a little at the way Lincoln passes her and gently brushes his hand against her head, caressing her cheek effortlessly and putting a tenderness to Octavia´s gaze. He disappears into the bathroom and a moment later the water is running in the shower.

It's surprising how easy it is to fall back into old patterns, or into old versions of who you've been. Even though it has just been a couple of months, so much has happened and progress can´t sometime be measured in time. Still, being around Octavia and Lincoln feels easy. Comfortable. Normal. It makes you feel your old self again, at least parts of it. It makes you wonder what would happen if you were to return home, to your home city, if that would bring back the younger version of you, the girl who loved everything and everyone, the girl that believed in love, the girl that lost everything.

(That version would of you wouldn´t appear, because she died a long time ago and her gravestone echos empty in your soul.)

Octavia hums in liking and you turn to look at her. She looks just as tired as she did yesterday, but at least she's not as pale. You turn back to the TV to catch what she hummed to, which happens to be a model. He looks a lot like Lincoln, but seriously not too. Really the only similarity is that they're both more or less bald.

"Shaved doesn't do it for me", you say and try to picture that guy with another haircut.

"Why?".

You smirk a little and shrug your shoulder as Octavia turns her head to look at you. "Because I like something to grab onto".

A blissful laugh rolls of Octavia´s tongue and you frown at her. "There're other things to grab onto", she tells you with a wink and you can´t stop the bubbling laugh building rapidly in your throat.

"Good god".

The both of you turn around to find Lincoln putting on a knitted shirt, drops of water glistering in the light still running down his chest. Apparently he came out just in time to hear Octavia´s comment. Octavia only smiles at him before turning back to the TV. 

"See, now you turned him to religion. I'm proud of you, O", you reply and Lincoln gives you a harsh look, which of course only makes you laugh a little bit more. You too turn back to the TV without much interest for the actual show, but it´s better than the other alternatives.

Lincoln clears his throat excessively loud and you turn with a questioning expression, just to find him looking a bit nervous. His eyes won´t look directly at you. Something is clearly not as it should. He points to the bedroom. "There's something I need to show you".

You peek over at Octavia, but she doesn´t react, which surprises you even more. So you place your feet on the ground and get up from your seat. "Okay. What is it?", you ask but he steps to the side and nods to the bedroom. You scoff and does as he asks. When you're within the holds of the bedroom walls he reaches for the first drawer in his desk and pulls out an envelope. He turns it a couple of times in his hands and with every second an unease grows within you. He finally looks up at you and an apology is written in his eyes. His hand is steady when he holds out the envelope and you take it from him. It's addressed to you. "What is this?", you ask and read your name again. There's something familiar with it, with the way the letters are connected and that little crook on the r´s. It clicks just like the lock to a door you've kept closed since you left your apartment and your love in bits. "Lincoln".

He sighs heavily. "I´m sorry. I didn't think you wanted it and frankly, you were doing so well without her I just-".

"You just kept this from me?", you spit back at him with rage.

He takes a step back, something he does in heated arguments too when he surrenders. Which doesn't happen often. "I'm sorry, Raven", he begs and you take in a ragged breath.

The letters scream as red as they are written and you write them too with your fingertips.

"Just go, please", you whisper and give him your back.

The door closes silently and you let your lungs let go of that deep breath. There´s no question, you need to know. If there´s an answer, you need to know. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and stare down at the name, your name, written with care, to seal what could be the answer you've secretly wished for. Your fingers are slow when they break the seal and they pull out the letter without even a tremble. So your lungs prepare for suffocation and your heart a rescue.

(They won´t get any of that.)

_Raven  
I do not know where you are or in whose arms you rest. All I know is that I am here. And you are somewhere else. I have come to realize, more and more, that I was undeniably unknowing of my own fault in what happened. I did have an inkling. No, that´s a lie. I knew that you felt something, but I could not let myself believe it. So I did not. I have myself to blame for you leaving. Nothing hurts more than realizing this, but what wants to heal must first be broken. I am broken, Raven. I never understood the thought of living a nightmare, to wake up and still be asleep, but the days and nights in the lack of your presence has taught me how it feels to fear the sun and the moon. _

_I can imagine you here, just like you were, your laughing gaze and shining smile, your wise words and the arguments you got yourself into, you. I can imagine you. I am going crazy thinking of you. Missing you. Dreaming of you. Everything in my life remind me of the things we shared. And God, I can not stand it. I listen to your song as a prayer. I read your last words as the reminder they are of what I let slip through my fingers. And God, I hate myself for not running after you faster, for not convincing you to stay._

_I feel lost. Without a home I am lost. And the sad part is that I have this, our home, still. But I do not need four walls and a roof. I need a pair of hands and a heartbeat. Skilled hands. Broken heartbeat. I need the one who made me laugh when all I saw was pain. The one who insisted to stay by my side through the shaky nights. I need the one and only person in this life who I have ever loved, completely and soul shattering._

_I wish I could find the words to explain all the things that have been left unsaid. And I wish that I could find a way of bringing this to you myself. But I have come to realize that you do not want me in your life anymore. I can only respect that. Maybe hope for a change. But I will respect you and your wishes._

_Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?_

_I love you.  
C_

"Fucking shit". The words fall from your lips without you thinking of it and you throw the letter to the side, away from your empty eyes. There´s so much in you that could explode, so much that would break you into nothingness. It only needs a spark. A match and with it you would burn. But nothing happens. The ground is steady and fast under your feet. Your head is clear even though it holds a storm. “Fuck”, you mumble and hide your face in your hands.

How much time that passes before there´s a knock on the door is forgotten or simply just not felt, because you can only count time in breathes you take to try to get back in control. So that your heart can't threaten you with an attack or failure at any given moment. 

The doors creaks open on ajar. "Can I come in?", Octavia's voice is soft, much softer than you've ever heard it.

"O, I really don't want company right now", you answer with a sigh. 

The door is fully opened when you look up from your eyes, with Octavia standing in it watching you with tenderness glowing from her eyes.

"I know, but that doesn't mean that I'll leave", she tells you with a small smile. You only sigh and run a now shaking hand through your hair. The shakiness started when you'd counted to thirty breaths. "He's really really sorry, Raven, he cares so much about you and all he wanted was to keep you away from all of this".

"Did you know about it? What it said?", you reply. When she doesn´t answer immediately you look up.

Octavia sighs heavily. "No, neither does he. I got a pretty good idea, but if you're asking if we've read it then the answer is no". You nod. You should apologize for even thinking that either of them would have read the letter, but you can't say anything at all. So you only breathe instead. "You okay?".

She doesn´t even try to sound like she believes that you'd ever say yes to that question.

"I've been okay, I was okay, but this, this is not okay", you answer and rub your thighs to have something to do with your hands, or at least just not feel them shaking. "What was she thinking? That a letter would change things, that I would just come back even though she's still with Finn". Octavia opens her mouth at that, but it closes without her saying anything. You look at her, more confused than ever. Octavia isn't one for not saying what she thinks immediately, she doesn't have does barriers. "What?".

Octavia sighs once again and comes to sit down next to. She runs a hand through her hair before she turns to meet your gaze. "They aren't together anymore. She broke up with him", she tells you and something pulls at your heart for it to sink deeper down the pit in your stomach.

"When?".

"Before school started. He's still around, you know he knows Lincoln and Jasper and the other guys, so they see each other from time to time but they're not a couple". Octavia's eyes are on you long after she's finished and then her arm is linked to yours, her head rests on your shoulder and for a moment it doesn't hurt to simply breathe.

Even though you love her for staying with you, there´s something you have to do. Something she can´t be here to see. So you caress Octavia´s hand and take one last breath in the safety of her embrace.

"O, I really need to-", you start and she straightens up, leaving a cold feeling spreading through your body.

"I know. But when you change your mind, I'll be right outside and we can go out or something, just the two of us", she tells you and you nod to answer. But she doesn´t move so you meet her gaze and smile reassuringly.

She smiles back at you and gets up. She reaches the door but then you can´t hold back anymore. "Thanks, O".

"We love you, never forget that", she replies and closes the door to leave you to your own crushing thoughts.

The tears come as soon as that door closes.

They don't stop until the next morning.

\-----

_February_

“Give me a kiss”.

The girl narrows her eyes, but gives in and places a sloppy kiss on the guy's cheek.

“Now, a proper kiss”, the guy says and grabs the girl by her face with both hands and brings her in for a ´proper kiss´. You look away with a scoff and take down a bottle of scotch to fill up another customer's drink. “There you go”. The guy's smile is disgusting and drunk, as is the girl´s, who doesn´t seem to bother being molested by that idiot.

You pour the scotch into a glass and slide it over the counter to the guy three stools down. He´s a regular so you put it on his tab before walking over to the group of girls trying desperately to get your attention. Anyone that said Christmas was a busy holiday couldn't possibly be working in a club on Valentine's day. The crowd is ridiculously enormous and it´s not even midnight, which means that it will be even more people stopping by in the next two hours before it slowly starts to simmer down to only a handful of drunks. The whole crew is working and Wick hired a new and upcoming DJ so that you wouldn´t have to cover both the bar and the booth, not that you wouldn't mind doing that. All hands are needed on deck.

Life´s good. Really good. With a lot of intimacy and denial you've managed to keep the storm under control. There hasn't been any outbreaks or breakdowns. Only collecting drowned moans like pennys, hoping that if you flip it just one more time, luck will come your way. Just if it´s the right guy, the wrong girl, hard enough to erase those invisible scars, soft and caring to soothe over new wounds. Just enough. But since you got home after New Year´s nothing has been enough. You´re not stupid. You know deep down that it won´t work like that, someone else can't heal you - you must learn to heal yourself. 

Still, pretending is better than not.

“What can I get you ladies?”, you shout over the music and lean in to get the order from a redhead who smells just like violets with the distinct odor of cigarettes. You get the order ready and hand it out to the group of a total of five girls. All of which you would guess are single and are here to try to avoid that fact, because being home alone on Valentine's is beyond humiliating.

There´s a tap on your shoulder and you turn to the right, only to find nothing. “What do you think?”, Wick asks with a bit of laughter to his voice on your left and you bite back the reflex to kick him. You succeed, mostly because you're more interested in upholding your image of professionality. When you turn to him ready to ask what the hell he´s talking about, he´s watching the guy, or child as young as he is, standing in the booth with one hand in the air and the other on the mixer. 

“The kid is pretty good”, you reply with a nod. He´s been able to keep the crowd moving so far and the music isn't too bad, actually quite tolerable.

Wick´s smile is filled with secrets and he peeks over at you before scanning the dance floor. “Pretty good, yeah. And within my price range. Thankfully”.

“That´s you didn't want me up there right”, you mock and catch a smirk growing on Wick´s lips.

“Yes”, he answers and meet your eyes. His are kind and just as his smile filled with secrets. “You're definitely out of my range”.

You turn away so that he doesn't notice the twitch around your mouth. It´s harmless flirting, something that has been going on since you met him, but still. Keeping it professional means not sleeping with the boss or flirting back too much. 

Luckily, Wick leaves you to do your work and you do so gladly.

\--

It´s close to 2 am and the party is still going hard. But you are breathing cold air with your eyes closed, leaning against the wall next to the door. The queue is since long cleared out and most of it was let in, only a few guys were too drunk to be let in. Murphy leads them down the street to the nearest bus station, leaving you protecting the door, which isn't much work since no one is in sight. The cold feels good. Much needed really. That and some silence, or as close as you can get to it. Which isn't that close considering the fact that the music is still making your chest vibrate. 

You found out what the DJ´s flaw around midnight when he played the newest Avicii track, with his own remix of course. He´s good and all, but to you who know what he actually does up there in that booth it turned annoying quiet fast. Because he uses the same run of adjustments on pretty much every song, which isn't much to anyone that doesn´t care, but you only find it lazy. That's pretty much the reason why you're standing here now, because this is spot where the music is as low as possible. And you just need five minutes and then you can play happy and get through the next couple of hours listening to that little piece of shit.

You jerk out your phone from your back pocket to check the time, you got three minutes before Miller´s going to come looking for you. A deep sigh and you put down the phone again. You look in the direction Murphy lead the guys, but he´s out of sight, there´s only one girl besides you on the street and she´s coming your way. She looks familiar, but after a night like this one everyone looks like someone you've met before.

Still, she looks really familiar with those blue eyes and brown hair.

“Maddie?”, you ask and push off the wall.

“Hi Raven”, she greets you with a smile and then a tight embrace. “How are you?”.

You bite your lip, still more or less standing in her arms. “I meant to call you”, you reply sheepishly. She only smiles wider and then nods like she believes you. When you meet her eyes the only thing playing on your mind is the memory of those exact eyes, looking up on you through her eyelashes with you aching under her touch with her name hanging in the air from when you let it slip your red bitten lips. “Ehm, what are you doing here?”.

She opens her mouth to answer, but then she looks over to the door and you have to take a step to the side to be able to follow her gaze. As you lay eyes on him, the only thing you can think is that this, this doesn't happen to you.

But it does.

“Cheers Raven, I was looking for you”, he says with a slur to his voice and then puts his arm around your shoulders.

“Sterling”. He smells of sweat and alcohol, both of with awake some memories in you. Memories you wouldn't mind reliving, but not in the company of someone else. Although the thought of that isn't as horrific as it probably should be. Which reminds you of the fact that the two of you aren't alone. “Sorry, this is Maddie. Sterling, Maddie. Maddie, Sterling”, you introduce them and Sterling extends his hand for her to shake, which she does. 

Eyes locked to his.

His smile is slick and wide. “Pleasure”.

“Yeah”, Maddie replies and you look from her to Sterling.

You're out of time and can´t stop what´s obviously about to happen, because the next second Murphy is back at the door and you turn to find him hiding a quiet laughter behind his hand.

“Where you going in?”, Sterling asks and his arm falls off your shoulders.

“Yeah, I was actually”, Maddie answers with little twirling motion with her hair around her finger.

Sterling takes a step forward and you can´t really process what's happening, but then his arm is linked to Maddie´s and they are walking. You turn and wave as they say goodbye to disappear into the club. You stare mouth opened at the door and then look over to Murphy who has changed the laughter for a very satisfying look.

He shrugs his shoulders and smirks even bigger. “There goes your girl”, he says and you don't want to know what he means by it.

(You already do.)

You take a deep breath, knowing that your time is up. When he leans back against the door with that smirk still on his lips you need to remind yourself that you need him, that without him your life would be a little bit harder, or at least keeping the drunks away from getting into the club. Which isn´t enough to not hurt him, but enough to forget about it for now.

"How did you get to be such a dick, Murphy?", you hiss a you pass him going in and through the door. You make it around the corner, that's when you almost stumble over a couple making out and groping things your rather not think about.

No one needs to tell you who they are. You already know.

\-----

_March_

Now, you think, this is perfect. You take a step back for an inspection of your change. It looks good. The couch is angled a bit more to the window but not without being in line with the TV, and the coffee table doesn´t look misplaced. But, there´s close to zero room walking around the couch.

“Dammit”, you mumble and sigh with hands reaching up to rub aggressively and tiredly around your temples. It´s the fourth time you've moved around that piece of bricks, at least it feels like moving a ton of them considering it's lack of a ability to move unless you're literally pushing with your right leg pushing off the wall.

It's Sunday morning and you couldn't be more bored. You've cleaned the whole place, even dusted everything off. Done the laundry and folded it. Changed the sheets and washed them as well. Cleaned out your fridge and all the cabins, as well as getting rid of every single piece of paper or newspaper or anything like that laying around. The whole weekend has been devoted to cleaning and at the end of it, at least that´s where you are now, you got nothing else to do. So you resorted to redecorating, which isn't your strong suit. That has clearly only resulted in you being exhausted and tired of the whole thing, ready to call it quits on ever moving as much as an inch. 

You fall down onto the couch with a grunt. It will have to wait, you are not leaving this spot for the next hour or so.

The Cure are playing in the background from the kitchen where you got your phone connected to the speakers. The intro to _Friday I'm in love_ starts playing and the smile on your lips isn't even sad. Behind your eyes the imagines of Clarke start to play, they flow together like an old Disney movie. She's laughing and jumping around with silly moves, then she tugs at your waist and drags you around the living room singing the lyrics and holding you close. You can see it as if it was recorded, but it wasn't, it was just one of those nights of too much studying and restlessness. 

The smile on your lips fades as the song ends.

You grunt once again and turn onto your side, eyes looking out the window to watch the clouds and the dark slowly falling over the city. It never gets really dark here, at least not as dark as you'd like it to be, the city lights are too many and too bright for the night to conquer. It´s enough to calm your nerves, but not quite enough to settle your mind. But at this point, you've given up hope on ever sleeping with comfort and not end up pacing through your room trying to chase the nightmares away.

The music stops suddenly and then there´s that distinct sound of something vibrating. You swing your legs over the edge of the couch and walk over to the counter were the stereo is set up. Your phone flashes up with the familiar contact ID. Guilt hits you like a baseball right in the chest and you press the green symbol to take the call.

 _“Am I forgiven yet?”_ , he asks before you can say anything at all. He sounds stressed and you understand why Octavia says that you got some things in common - you get stressed too after an unsolved argument.

“Yes, Lincoln, you are forgiven”, you reply and hop onto the counter. He puffs with relief and you feel the guilt evaporate from where it hit, just like drops of water on a sunlit window.

_“Good, because I need to talk to you about something”._

You brush off some dust of your t-shirt and frowns as you notice a few stains of what looks like toothpaste. “Sure, what is it?”.

You can hear him take a deep breath. It's awfully quiet on his end, which it normally isn't. Whenever he calls Octavia´s more often than not trying to take the phone from him to cut in on your conversation, or just talk because she can't call you on her phone because of her limited budget. 

_“I'm proposing to Octavia”._

(He should be lucky there´s an ocean between you.)

“You what?!”, you yell into your phone after a sharp intake of air. Mind going on overdrive and heart racing. “What, rewind, when did you decide this?”, you ask and he breathes out heavily, like he´s been holding his breath.

(He was.)

 _“Do you want an honest answer?”_ , he asks and you roll your eyes. But of course he´s not here to see it.

“Yes, please”, you scoff.

 _“The first time I met her”_ , he replies with a gentle voice. You bite your lip, hard. In your chest the storm takes over and it ravishes, tears your heart open and out pour all the tears you've managed to suppress. You angle the phone away from you so that he doesn't hear your ragged breath and the sobs you can´t hold back. Down your cheek a few tears dance with all their pride and glory, something you can't say that you agree with. _“You still there?”_ , he asks with a now worried tone.

“Yeah, I'm here”, you answer quickly and wipe those tears away. “Lincoln, are you sure about this?”.

He laughs with a tenderness that you can feel touch your heart over the Atlantic. He sounds more than serious when he answers, like he has spent actual time thinking over this. Not that you'd expect anything different. _“Rufus Wainwright once said, love is a game and true love is a trophy”_. You smile at that and then he sighs. _“I´m done playing games, Raven”_.

You slide of the counter and walk back to the couch, when you're seated you can imagine him on the other end, sitting on his one couch with a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and a goofy smile smeared all over his face.

“What are you planning?”, you ask and listen with care to every word he says.

\-----

_April_

The rain started on Tuesday. Without any warning the sky opened up and down came hell. You watched it for ten minutes as it splashed over the loading dock, rapidly filling out all the cracks and holes in the concrete. When you were little your father used to take you out fishing, you weren't even five years old the first time, and it alwaysed rained. His reason for dragging you out in the pouring rain was simply that the fish would bite better. It made no sense to you and your mother used to laugh at the both of you when you were fully dressed for catastrophic weather. You didn't even know you liked doing it until he wasn't there to take you fishing anymore. Maybe you associate rain with the memory of your father, or the other way around.

It doesn't matter, because rain is rain and it will wash everything away. If you let it. 

It is now Friday, or really Saturday since it's 3 am. The rain is still pouring outside and the sound of it echoes through the building. You unlock the door and push it open with your back as you flip through your mail - three that you wrinkle your nose at, all bills, and an envelope with Lincoln's neat handwriting on. You close the door carefully, trying to not make too much noise. The boots can you push to the side while you get your coat off and hang it next to the door. Your right hand wip at your face and hairline to collect some of the raindrops, making your white sleeve darken with dampness. You throw the bills on the coffee table and put on the TV to get rid of the quiet. The envelope is carefully sealed. You rip it open, only to find another envelope in it. Your eyebrow shoot up at the discovery, but it makes sense when you turn over the second envelope. It's addressed to you, on Lincoln's address, from the university. You should relay have informed them of your new address, but it was forget in all the other things that seemed more critical.

You don't need to opened it to guess what it says. What you´re more surprised by is the date and in the hurry Lincoln must have sent it. It makes you laugh for a bit. Maybe he hurried because of what happened. It's funny, you think. But then you sigh and open the letter. And yes, they need you to decline or accept your spot for next semester. Taking a year off was a great idea. Still, you know better than believing that this is all you either can or want to do. It was Lincoln who convinced you to apply for next year, just in case you'd change your mind.

You throw the letter next to the bills. With the tingling feeling of a headache coming on. Lincoln's probable waiting for you to call to make sure that you got the letter. He'll have to wait. You flick the light on in the bedroom and then walk over to the dresser, change into sweats. When you pick up the hoodie, the old one that used to read _Reyes Shop_ on the back, you stop. You'd forgotten about it, about those. You fingertips barely touch the surface. Out of curiosity you pull out your phone and pull up a couple of those photos Wick took last week during a particularly busy day. You're not smiling in any of them, apart from one that he took after hours when the whole crew was seated on the loading dock. You look happy, almost, perhaps more calm and relaxed than happy. But you'll take it. When you flip through the album you can't find even one picture on which you don't smile. You've not looked through this album since you were little, so you didn't know that you parents documented pretty much your whole life. They took pictures of everything, captured even the smallest of things, they even wrote short comments next to some of them. 

But then it stopped. 

The last twelve pages are empty.

They are a reminder of what you've learned this last few months. About yourself. About the life you have lived. They remind you of the fact that it doesn't hurt like it used to. You never talked to Clarke about it, mostly because you were already used to it when the two of you met. You never told her about the dreams, about the doubts or the fact that you were prone to running. Maybe if you had, things would have turned out differently. Still, the problem between the two of you wasn't the fact that you kept things from her, the problem was that you fell in love with her. 

There was one night though, one that is imprinted on you mind.

It was in late November. Classes were good and kept both of you busy. Your ability to push through the stress and upcoming finials was crumbling under the pressure, but it didn´t show in the way you handled the situation. Instead, your nights turned into horrors. Slowly, like a dribble, one drop after another, peaceful sleeping turned into haunted dreams. Since the day of the accident you were forced to relive the whole thing, it´s always so real. Causing you to wake up screaming and shaking. One night the stress and pressure got to you like it does sometimes. Clarke went to bed before you and the apartment was completely silent, you finished your assignment and fell asleep rather quickly. It came crawling at you, always so calm in the beginning, just as it was that day, then it all came crashing down. 

The car flipped in the air, spun around itself and landed with the roof scraping the road. The sound of it, so sharp and ear deafening. You could smell the gasoline in the air, feel the pressure applied to your chest as you hung strapped with the seat belt keeping you from falling down. You yelled, or tried to, but the smoke from the burning engine hurt your throat. You didn't even notice your leg before you reached down to unbuckle the seat belt, when your fingers meet something wet and sticky - blood. You traced it with panic growing in your chest, tears running down your face, until they slipped into a open wound on your upper thigh. You cried out for your mother and father, but they didn´t respond. Maybe they were still knocked out. You didn't know how long you'd been like that, hanging, enough time to make your whole body start to feel numb. When you unbuckled your belt you fell, hard, against the roof of the car, pain shooting through your whole body. When you tried to lift yourself up your left leg gave in.

You always wake up in the same moment your fingers try to find a pulse on your father's neck, but there isn't one. There´s an explosion in the engine and in the heated moment you fall forward, putting pressure on your left leg and then you feel nothing at all.

You black out.

The next thing you knew you were digging your nails into Clarke´s arms, eyes wide with terror and hyperventilating. She stayed with you the rest of that night, asked what made you so scared, but you said nothing. You never told her the truth. Maybe she figured that it just was a terrible nightmare.

(She kept a close eye on you the week after that. Never, not even for a second, thinking that it was just a nightmare that did that to you.)

Something died that day, the day life was stolen from your parents. Something died and you were too young to do anything about it. The numbness slowed everything down and you were never given a chance to truly understand all of what that day did to you. It still hurts. Even though it´s not as much a sting anymore, more of a vibration to remind your body that is alive. That this, this is life. This is you. All of it, the memories, the pain, the flaws, the talents. The future. 

All of it is you.

\-----

_May_

You balance on your right foot while trying to tie your left shoe, looking clumsy as shit since you're this close to losing it and falling face first to the floor. But you manage anyway. A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you straighten up and grab your red jacket. Your keychain sticks to the inner fabric of your pocket and you curse yourself for forgetting that, yet again. As you struggle to get it out your phone starts to vibrate in your back pocket of your jeans.

For a second you wonder if you're late, but then you remember clearly agreeing on meeting up a quarter past five.

You read the caller ID with a growing smile and take the call without hesitation. "Hey, I'm on my way out".

 _"Really, isn't it like five where you are?"_ , she sounds profoundly surprised by your answer and doesn't even care to greet you with the same joy to her voice.

You scrunch your nose in amusement. Typical of any of the Blake siblings to question you going out before nightfall. "Your point being?".

 _"Oh god, are you going on a date? Please tell me you're going on a date"_. 

How fast this girl can change her tone of voice and focus is astonishing to you. 

"Funny", you answer blankly and lock the door with both locks. "I'm not seeing anyone. You know that. It's just a work thing".

She laughs on the other end, like the little shit she is. _"I call bullshit. You're all work work work-"_.

"Not this again", you mumble and continue down the stairs to the bottom floor.

 _"I'm serious. What do you do when you're not working?"_ , she asks with too much seriousness to her voice than you can handle without laughing yourself.

"Sleeping".

 _"Come on, Raven. I know you, you can't just do that"_ , she replies and you roll your eyes. You push through the door and out to the street to meet the sun and the clouds threatening to bring another week of rain down on you. But the weather rapport was promising, so you're holding on to that. _"Stop rolling your eyes"_ , she tells you and you scoff.

"How- never mind. Did you want something or is this just you calling me cause you're bored".

On the other end she gasps, exaggerated, and huffs at you. _"I don't call you when I'm bored. Well I do, but this isn't that"_ , halfway through her poor explanation she cracks up and laughs at herself, bringing a longed smile to your lips.

"I don't got all day here O", you tell her as you head down the street casually avoiding getting run over by a group of joggers.

 _"Yeah yeah. I need your help"_.

"Oh. With what?".

 _"Flower arrangements, the food, and my dress. MY dress, Raven, I'm going crazy-"_ , she keeps on going in a confusing chant that consists mostly of mumbles and her voice going up level after level the less oxygen she's getting.

"Octavia, take a deep breath", you interrupt her as she mumbles something about a guest list. "Go with white and blue, both the flowers and theme. It suits the both of you. I don't know about the food. You could ask the hotel three blocks from Lincoln's and maybe you could have the venue there too? As for the dress, send me pictures". You stop at the crossing and wait for Octavia to answer, but she doesn't. Instead she only sighs heavily and you smile a little. "It's going to be amazing, O", you tell her and can imagine her own smile.

_"Have I told you how much I love you? And how much I hate this, you not being here, right now!"._

"Love you too", you replied with a much needed warmth spreading through your body.

She's quiet after that. Much more quiet than you're familiar with, but it's nice to, to only listen to her breathing knowing that she takes comfort in listening to your own breaths. You take another left, with not as eager step. You don't mind being a couple of minutes late after all, if it means that you can feel this comfort for a little longer.

But every moment comes to an end.

_"There's something else..."_

"Go on", you encourage her.

 _"Would you be my maid of honor?"_.

You stop altogether. In the middle of the street. Breath caught in your chest. "Octavia", you force without your lungs corporation and feel the ecstasy beat from your heart.

 _"Say yes, say yes, say yes"_ , she begs and your laugh is warm when it evaporates off your cracked lips.

"Like I would deny you anything", you reply and she makes a cute little scream on the other end, bringing tears to the surface within you, tears you won't let pass your guard, but if you were to let them fall they wouldn't sting as the other kind does.

 _"I love you!"_ , she says and you breathe out hot air filled with longing.

"I miss you", you tell her. When you round the next corner you spot the cafe, which brings you back down to earth and you inhale refreshing air to wake your body from the emotions taking to Octavia brings. "I gotta go, call me whenever okay?".

 _"Okay. I love you. Bye babe, got luck on your date"_ , she teases and you scoff as you end the call, putting the phone back into your back pocket.

If only you were here, you allow yourself to think. For just a moment though, before you lock away those thoughts again.

As the door opens in front of you, followed by a man who smiles politely at you, you're met my the smell of pancakes and coffee. You let the warmth pass through your body, washing away everything else but what is _now_. You scan the shop and its guests, then you lay eyes on her and her focused gaze as she reads today's issue of The Guardian. You can't help but smile. Maybe it's her posture or the way she cups her cup of tea with both hands that makes you think of tender things, things that are strong and stable when needed but soft and caring at the core.

"Hey, sorry I'm late", you say as you reach her table and attract her eyes which are filled with words and thoughts, but they all slip away at the sight of you.

"No worries", she tells you and her brown eyes lights up for a moment, then she starts talking and you lean back to take it all in. Fact is, you've missed listing to Harper going on and on for hours. Something you don't get to experience as often since you moved out.

It's calming in a way you can't quite put your finger on.

\-----

_June_

"Hun, you're cute and everything, just not that cute". 

The girl pouts and frowns at your answer. Which of course only makes you scoff under your breath. She keeps her gaze on you, but you stand your ground. She finally gives up and straightens up, pushing off the counter only to lean in again. "Me begging won't help, would it?", she asks with a glimpse to her well contoured eye.

"Not with me honey". 

She doesn't even look particularly disappointed. It doesn't surprise you, she'll probably move over to impress someone else with her 'talents' and get a couple of free drinks for the show. More than enough girls try the same act every night - leaning in close, showing off some cleavage, winking and exaggerated smiling. The guys are a bit different, they usually offer a lot of sloppy and stomach turning compliments. You haven't decided on what you prefer.

She sighs and throws up her hands to properly give up. "Fine. Hi Miller".

You turn your eye to Miller who's quick to look down, his hands though seem to stop for a moment with the drinks he's blending, waiting for what else may come. When you turn back to the girl she's still smiling at him. When she leaves a second later you can't help but laugh.

"You _so_ slept with her", you whisper as you pass by Miller's side. He sighs audibly. Which isn't a non answer. " _Miller_ ".

"It was an one off. You know I hate girls", he confesses and you scoff by his side, wiping the rim of a whisky glass. 

"Yeah, sure, you _really_ hate girls don't you".

"Piss off, Raven".

You laugh with amusement and walk over to his other side to pour some single malt into that glass. "Such a womanizer. When's my turn to have a go with you", you ask mockingly and he opens his mouth to answer.

"Never, I hope", Harper comments with a smirk directed at Miller. He closes his mouth and turns away from the both of you, leaving you to laugh as Harper walks up to you and leans over the counter with a deep sigh.

"Hey you. Everything okay?".

"Something's wrong in the booth, he keeps complaining about the bass or something", she replies and your gaze jerks up to spot the guys in the booth. 

He looks like a right pain in the arse, you think for yourself.

"Take over here, I'll go check", you tell Harper who lights up and nods to then jump over the counter in a swift move.

\--

"Do you even know what you're doing?", the man child barks and you swallow back the ball of fire threatening to blow at his torso.

"Better than you at least", you spit back and twitch the adjustment of the cables. When you stand back up again, with the man child's condescending gaze on you, you smile proudly for yourself for a moment. You step aside so that you can show him your work and point to the cables as he steps forward to continue his. "Okay, adjust the bass now and _do not_ step on this or I'll have to switch these with your guts", you lock eyes on him and narrow them, making him swallow back whatever kind of answer he was willing to speak a second ago.

When you make your way down from the booth, Wick's waiting for you. He must have been watching you. He smiles well to smuged for his own good. "You know I fancy you right?", he asks but you walk past him into the crowd of dancing lunatics.

"Yeah yeah, Wick, give me a raise", you yell back with a smirk growing on your lips.

\--

The night simmers down. 

When Atom and Murphy have closed the doors for the night the whole crew gathers around the bar to share Chinese food before cleaning up. It's a nice and calm end to a hectic shift. Harper and Miller cuddle up next to each other, sharing small glances with one another when they think no one notices. Everyone notices. Atom takes on the dishes and heads for the backroom with Murphy to get some trash bags to fill with the bottles lying around. You start to organize the bar and count the register. You wouldn't mind Miller doing the counting instead, because he's quicker, but he's busy keeping track of the new intern Lauren and teaching her how to do the inventory.

You've gotten the counter cleared out and gotten through the tips, which leaves more to wish for but it's better than what it was yesterday. With what you've earned tonight you might afford that dinner set you found online for Lincoln and Octavia's wedding gift. You put away your share of the tips and leave the rest for the others to claim when they're done. With a sigh you open the register.

“Hey, Raven. Can I have a word?”.

Wick puts away the beer bottles he had in his hands and wipes of his hands on a cloth hanging from his belt.

“Sure, what´s up?”, you answer without looking up from the register as you keep counting the coins.

“Remember what you said earlier, about the raise-”, he begins and you jerk up your eyes with a bright smile.

You laugh a little and he quiets down. “I wasn't serious Wick, don't worry”.

“I am”, he replies quickly and looks very serious. More serious than you're used to. So you close the register without bothering to remember what your count was. Your arms fold over your chest as the tend to do when you're put in a situation you don't quite know what to do with. “What would you think about managing?”.

You gasp. But he doesn't laugh or quit wearing that serious face. So the possibility sinks into you. “Managing? Me? Me managing Plan B?”, you stutter and he smiles from the corner of his mouth.

“No no, I bought a piece of property off of an old mate of mine and I'm opening a new club, so I need someone reliable to manage it”, he explains as he leans his body against the counter.

"I thought Murphy was up for the job", you say and Wick nods.

"He is. Murphy's good at handling people at the door and keeping everyone on their toes, but you get the logistics. He's a great part of the crew, but I would like to see you pulling the strings if you know what I mean".

You nod. At least that's what your brain tells you to do. But you're too caught up in the moment to notice it or not. Maybe it's in this moment you realize that you haven't thought about the future. Living in the moment, for the day, carpe diem style has that side effect. A year ago you came to London on a flute, it was the farthest you could go as fast as possible, and it quickly turned into your safe haven. Looking back on that first time you can't see the person you are today, sure that girl looks just like you and every choice she made were valid, still are for you, but her eyes were tainted with pain and suffering. When or how her eyes started to change, is a mystery to you.

But they did.

Maybe time does heal all wounds. If you let it. Maybe that's what you did. Maybe when you look at yourself in the mirror you won't see the reflection of loss, but of endurance. Maybe, just maybe, you needed to be broken to be able to walk again.

"You don't have to give me an answer right away. Take your time to think about it. I'll have to go over the plans with a constructor, because that place doesn't look like club at the moment, more like an old abandoned house or something. Creepy, really. So take your time, just not to long, okay?". Wick smiles at you and you nod, again. For real this time.

"Okay", you answer and smile back at him.

He looks satisfied and pulls the cloth from his belt and throws it over his shoulder. You turn back to the register. "You know, I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't believe that you had potential to do this", he tells you and you can feel something tighten in your chest.

\-----

_July_

Your computer shuts down with a ping and you pack it with the rest of your luggage. That and your headphones are the only things you feel necessary to bring, well those and a couple of changes of clothes. You´re not flying out until Wednesday, but to compensate for not being here to get things ready for the weekend you'll work double shifts at Plan B. Between that and looking over the work site for the new club with Wick, you're slammed and won't be home for more than a couple of hours of sleep if you´re lucky.

The plane ticket is safely tucked away in the inner pocket of your bag. Not only to make sure that you remember it, but also so that you don't have to look at it until you actually need to use it. Flying is one of your favorite things, so it has nothing to do with that, only the process of getting on that stupid flight. You can't wait to go through security. They always look funny at you and your leg, like honestly, have they never seen anyone with a brace before. A younger version of you would have gone for their necks as soon as they laid an eye on you with that sympathetic look written all over their faces. But now you just shake it off and keep on walking.

At least that's what you're hoping for.

With the years and some new experiences you might have gained the ability to restrain your impulse to bash someone's face in for just looking funny at you. 

Lincoln and Octavia had sent you an ex of the invitations, just to show you what they decided on. It was beautiful and simple. Written in blue, which you smiled at, and decorated with white rose patterns to contour the text. It feels like it's been a lifetime since you've been back home, home meaning with your friends. Maybe because this too has become a home to you. Going home for this is the right thing, you wouldn't miss it for the world, but it also hurts in ways you haven't been able to put into words. Or simply share with either Lincoln or Octavia. On top of that, working with Wick on the new project has put another kind of pressure on you.

That pressure has left you're torn.

He hasn't asked, but you know that he´s waiting for an answer. One you can´t give him just yet. This choice is harder than those you've made in the past. This isn't one you're fleeing to or running away from. This has to be something you want and will still want down the line. And that, that is something you haven't decided on yet. But whatever the choice you'll make it doesn't affect what you're doing right now.

When you´re phone starts to ring where it's being charged on the nightstand you throw down the jumper you tried to neatly fold to fit into the already full bag. You read the first letter of the caller ID and that´s all you need to know who´s calling.

"Yes, I'm packing and no, I haven't found that book you lent me", you answer as you pull out the charger to be able to stand up straight and on the other end Octavia snorts.

_"Funny. That's not why I'm calling"._

You pinch the phone between your shoulder and ear to keep it in place as you go back to folding that jumper. "Really".

 _"Please shut up, I'm barely keeping it together as it is"_. She does sound tired, more than usual. So you bite your tongue and wait. _"I called to remind you that you need to go straight to the boutique when you get here to get fitted for the dress"_.

"I know. You've only told me a dozen times", you can´t help the mocking tone in your voice. Tired or not, she had that coming with all the nagging she has put you through. But when she doesn't bite back with something equally bitchy you stop. "O, what is it?".

_"I was kind of hoping that I didn't have to say this now or... I don't know-"._

"Just say it", you interrupt before she can go on and ramble her way out of whatever she's holding back.

She sighs, heavily. _"Clarke's coming to the wedding"_.

God I love you, you think and shut the bag without zipping it. 

"Darling, I was expecting that, she's like your best friend or something, it would be weird if she wasn't coming", you answer with ease and tenderness.

 _"You're my best friend. And yeah, that would have been weird, wouldn't it?"_ , she laughs a little with that, but it´s not filled with joy. But something else. Something more.

"What else?", you sit down next to the bag on the bed and fidget with the sheets. She doesn't say anything, yet again. "Octavia".

 _"She's one of the maids too"_.

"Fantastic", you mumble for yourself, knowing that Octavia can hear you but chooses not to say anything.

Maybe it's for the best.

\-----

_August_

"Welcome home, _darlings_ ". A warm and bubbly laugh rolls of your tongue. Lincoln's eyes light up and he takes your bag from your hand and wraps the other arm around you, tightly. He smells like home. "So, how was the fitting?", he asks as he turns to put your bag next to the living room couch.

"It's a beautiful dress. It's going to be an amazing day", you answer and turn your smile to Octavia. Her expression is tired and worn out, but those dark eyes are still filled with joy and excitement even though it's dimmed.

"Yes it is", Lincoln agrees and wraps his arms around her, pulling her in close to place a tender kiss to her temple.

The love they have for each other is obvious. If getting married wasn't a proof of that then this is - the way their eyes light up, how they lean into each other and the way one word or touch can change the other's state of mind immediately. When they hold each other like that, you can see their life years from now, how time can't do nothing to damage what they are and will grow to become with the years to come. They are the definition of true love. Within the short but intense time they've been together they've been through a lot. Outside your group of friends they are met by judgmental looks and controversial opinions. 

Through the many phone calls you've had with Octavia since you moved away you've learned that her only worry was to convince Bellamy of the fact that Lincoln was a good and honest guy, that he was the only one she could be herself with. When that no longer was a problem, she didn't have to worry, but it didn't erase the causes of her worrying. The age difference was still very real. Lincoln was still a graduate and practically her teacher, he's still employed by the university and worked as a assistant for one of the professors. Those things are enough for people to judge.

But not enough to wreck what they have.

"So when does the shenanigans begin?", you ask and fall down on the couch with your legs hanging over the armrest. "Do we have time for a nap?".

Octavia scoffs gently and nudges your foot with her hand. The tug at the corner of her mouth should act as a warning, but you're too relaxed to notice it. The next second she's throwing herself over you and you grunt.

"Good god woman, are you trying to kill me", you mumble into her neck. Her chest vibrates with laughter and when her eyes find yours, you know - you're truly home.

"A nap it was", Lincoln declares and falls over Octavia.

"Lincoln!", the two of you yell with voices muffled with laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on inspiration-feeds-creatiivity.tumblr.com or track #bff au for updates


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